


CLAIMED!

by Sintina



Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Daryl Kicking Ass, F/M, Joe and Those Idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:51:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1367842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sintina/pseuds/Sintina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth is for sale. Joe’s boys take a detour on the way to Terminus and go to the auction. </p><p>A crowd of perverted, leering scum stands between Daryl and the woman he lost. </p><p>Daryl was just beginning to like Joe, too. Can’t be helped, now.  </p><p>Right after ep. 4.15 “Us”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Embrace the Hate

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? "Us" really pissed me off, the way Daryl was subjugated again. This is me setting him free.

No need ta’think, now. Nor do much neither. Cept what he always done before. 

This group fit like a glove. Daryl didn’t fight it. His hateful sorrow at losing Beth so familiar, so much like old times. And, surely a sign from her God, along come familiar people to keep him feeling so.

It was too easy. Too easy to just wallow in feeling like this and adjust back to being a nobody redneck asshole again. Cept now following a different asshole then before. 

Least Joe had rules. Merle never abided rules. So, that was sumthin’.

Something to rely on. 

As the rest of the day they’d discovered the Terminus sign wore on, Daryl came to some decisions. 

Beth was wrong about him. He weren’t nobody new. No different. All he ever needed was rules to live by. Didn’t make a difference if it’d been Merle’s, Rick’s, or Joe’s. Daryl was the same simple follower. And he was fine like that. Beth was wrong. She was young and stupid and wrong. 

But trying to think poor of Beth twisted and knotted every part of him. 

Just cuz she’s gone’s no reason to disparage her memory. He balled a fist. Fighting the urge to turn and run after her. Run in any direction that might take him to her. 

No. Hell, maybe she was in Terminus. Maybe if he bailed on Joe’s group, he’d be taking himself further from her. Fuck. 

Part of him hated her for doing this to him. Hated the lowlifes in Joe’s group for guessing that a woman was his problem. Hated himself for being so see-through. Just hated. Hated like he hadn’t hated in such a long time. Hated like he’d forgotten he could hate. 

And there was a comfort to it. A way of feeling like yourself again, wrapped hard and fast in all that roiling hatred and hurt. He clenched his teeth; then spat. Yep. Beth was wrong about him. 

\------------

Brush and brambles closed tight along both sides of the tracks. The group was on their guard, eyeballing in every direction for shit to jump out the leaves. 

Joe was up front when the big guy just sort of stepped sideways out between two bushes onto the tracks in front of them. Everyone drew weapons.

“Now, now… don’t make a fuss. I got a proper-sition for all’a’ya’ll,” the big guy smiled a big smile. He was a damn tank. A full head taller than the tallest man they had and stacked like a chimney. Broad shoulders and a barrel chest with a wide belly below a massive ribcage. Besides the fat tire round his midsection, he was all muscles on muscles, knotting and braiding up his arms, shoulders and neck. Daryl assessed him up and down. Guys like him were usually too slow, too assured of their brute strength. Cut an artery quick and you take’em down just the same as the small ones. 

“Speak up,” Joe glared, “I don’t like the jump being had on me and my men.” 

“I been waiting in this spot a few days, finding proper customers for my crew’s little venture. Not everyone passes through here looks the part. But you fine folk look like the sort that’d be interested in a certain… opportunity.” 

“Spit it out, fool, we got places to be!” 

“Fuck Terminus,” the big man spat, “dusty, rusty old hippie commune sitting round waiting to get their asses kicked by time or the likes of people like us. Ain’t nothing there even worth looting. The women ain’t got shit on what we got…”

“Women?” Billy barked. 

“Yeah. We got women. For sale, like.” 

Daryl scoffed at the gross audacity. His hackles raised in defensiveness, ready to strike down this perv. Must’ve forgotten his company, because he was surprised when he heard an intrigued: 

“Really?” from Joe. “Boys, we ain’t had women in a bit of a while, eh?” 

“Not since that rotten pussy from the supermarket in that one town,” Tony offered.

Daryl’s stomach turned. He blinked. Waking up, just like that, from his long hurt-hate stupor. 

Beth wasn’t wrong about him. He’d been wrong about himself. He didn’t belong with this lot. He belonged looking for her. Like lightening, a worse thought… what if Beth was one of the big guy’s women? Fuck. Quickly, as if this lot needed any more convincing to follow this lout wherever the promised pussy may be… 

“Shit. Can’t remember my last woman, Joe. What’d’ya say? Go check it out?” 

“Can’t hurt,” Joe shrugged with a smile just for Daryl, proud of the new guy’s gusto. Turning to the big man again, “If what you say is true ‘bout Terminus, we can knock that shithole over any time we please and get our revenge on that dick that did Lou.” His small speech was followed by a raised: “YEAH!” from the men. “For now, I reckon we can afford a quick detour for some tail. How much you charging for these girls of yours?” 

The tank turned and revealed a path through the bushes from which he came. “Depends on the girl, depends on what you got. There’ll be others looking to trade, rent or buy.” 

Joe led the group two by two through the trees, the big guy at their rear. 

Daryl simmered. New, justifiable hatred boiling over to replace the remorseful rage he’d felt these last few days. He didn’t know how, but he was going to rescue these women and get them to Terminus with him. Then he’d join up with some more of his people. For he was sure, now, that they'd be there. They'd head out, together, to find Beth. 

That was _if_ , God forbid, Beth wasn’t on sale like these other women.


	2. Caged Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth won't be beaten.
> 
> Warning: after-effects of rape on a non-major character. Do not read if rape is a trigger.

They brought the other girl back, bloody and dirty and staring into nothingness. They laughed at Beth’s shocked face as they dropped the girl near her, heavily, like dead weight. Beth struggled in her zip-tie wrist and ankle restraints, pulled up from her knees to stand defiant. 

She glared rage at the men before they slammed the door of the shed closed, locking it back loudly and laughing at her all the more. She was back in frustrating near-darkness. Light gleamed in from beneath the tin sheets that made up this building’s roof. The other girl quaked and shivered, curling into a ball. 

Beth shimmied over to the girl, her cellmate since she’d been thrown in here three days ago. They both had their arms zip tied behind their backs since day one. Sadly, now, the other girl’s legs were no longer bound and she kicked the dirt into dust around her. 

The girl never spoke, so Beth didn’t know her name. But they’d slept leaning on one another, sitting up against the furthest wall from the door. They’d shivered together at the sounds of other girls in other sheds as they were raped or beaten or both. So, Beth felt close to this girl and so sorry for her now. She hadn’t heard her cellmate’s screams. They’d taken her somewhere far away, or indoors, or something. 

The girl coughed, spat, struggled to breathe. Her eyes were spiraling in all directions. 

“Shhh… shhh…” Beth kneeled next to her to comfort her. But what could she do? What would take this pain away? Nothing, she realized.

“We’re going to get out of here,” she soothed, thinking of Daryl running wild behind the car that’d swiped her. “I have people coming…” 

“Good for you!!!” the girl shrieked into the dirt, her first words ever to Beth, not looking up, “Good for fucking you! I’m glad you ain’t been had by them yet and you can just fucking spout stupid shit like how there’s people out there that care about you! Well, they don’t care about me!!!” and she descended into quaking silent sobs and whimpers. She shrugged her body away from Beth and struggled into a corner by herself. 

Beth felt like shit. 

Daryl. Damn it, Daryl. Hurry up.

No. She needed to free herself. Free both of them. Forget about waiting on rescue. 

She went back to the wall they’d shared. The first two nights, they’d each worked their fingers in the bare dirt floor, under the wood beams making up the bottom of the shed’s frame. This was a do-it-yourself utility shed and floors were the most time intensive part, so a lot of people skipped them. The whole cube frame sat right in the dirt and tin sheets had been nailed loosely to the beams making up the shallow pointed roof. 

Together, they’d made a small hole which they hid with their bodies whenever the men came. The hole was almost big enough, now, for Beth to fit her whole lower arm outside the shed, squeezing it under the 2x4 at the bottom of the wall. 

She’d been so happy when she felt the grass outside for the first time! She and the other girl had both picked strands of it and poked each other’s hands with the tips of the blades in victory. 

Now, more than ever, she had to work quickly. She’d be working on it alone. She backed herself up against the same wall now, adjusting her body down so her hands, braced behind her back, could reach into the hole and keep digging and clawing at it. 

The soft sounds of the dust and dirt scraping made the other girl quiet, suddenly. She turned to look at Beth again, a face full of disgust. Then she turned away, defeated.

Beth only focused on the feel of the grass outside. Nothing else. She’d have that grass beneath her feet soon and be running. Running far away from here as fast as she could get. 

\-----------

Daryl came into the farm yard with the others. He was revolted to hear women’s screams coming from inside a house to their right. His gut hurled against his ribs. Gotta keep calm. Don’t get yourself killed before you can do any good. 

“Welcome to our bunny farm, boys,” the big guy leered, “hope you get what you come for.” 

So do I, Daryl thought, menacing at all the throats he wanted to slit.

So do _motherfucking_ I.


	3. Setting the Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realistically, this is a nigh impossible situation for Daryl and Beth to get out of. They are hugely outnumbered and on a guarded compound. 
> 
> But this is fan fiction... so our heroes are going to win. Because I say so.

Daryl, Joe and the others milled around the open area inside the small farm's makeshift fence. They were roughly guided by signs and other small clusters of rough men dressed similarly to themselves. For the first time in his life, Daryl thought he needed to get a new look. If these shit-heaps were what was associated with his general style, he'd have to get Beth to play dress up with him sometime soon, when he found her. A booming voice rose on a megaphone. A man stood on a rickety stage near the front of the compound. 

"Auction starts in 2 hours, you bastards! And you are gonna wanna be here for it! All these bunnies out and about for the renting and trading ain't got shit on the real rabbits!" 

Joe and the others gathered loosely around to hear the practiced auctioneer. 

"AND.... gather over here all of you dipshits!" the man on the stage called to some of the disparate pairs standing away. "Cause this is gonna be our BEST auction in months!!! How long, I ask you all, how long has it been since the bunny farm had a sweet... sumptuous... CHERRY???!!!!!" 

Cat calls and jeers and hoots and hollers and whistles rose up. The various clusters of men closed in to the stage now. 

"That's right you sickos! Certified and Guaranteed. We played like Santa Clause and checked her twice!!! And boys, let me tell you, she is VERY nice!!!" more whoops from the crowd. 

Disgusted, Daryl spent this precious time, with the others distracted, scanning every corner of the property behind his bangs. Not moving from the group and even offering a nodded grunt of approval at the appropriate times in the auctioneer's ramble. He was getting to know every in and out, every nook within eye sight. Still the auctioneer riled up the bidders: 

"And.... this one's **extra** special! Better save your money and barter, boys, cuz she ain't gonna be cheap!!! Last virgo we had round here made pedophiles of all'a'ya'll sacks of shit! 15 year old... you ought to be ashamed o'yerselves! You know what'll happen to you in the joint, they find out you been diddling kids, you fat fucks?!" Snickers and chuckles and elbows around the group. 

Daryl saw the sheds where the girls must be kept. A crummy rail fence surrounded the farm and one lone guard stood at each of the three sides of the property, besides the entrance. There was a barn and a two story farm house, as well as a large garage for tractors and other vehicles. Suddenly, something the auctioneer said pulled Daryl from his silent search: 

"But... this one's _LEGAL!!_ That's right! You don't even got to worry 'bout Daddy calling statutory!!!! She's the real deal too!! Blond and blue eyed like nothing you've ever seen outside'a porno!" 

"CLAIMED..." Daryl growled, low but loud enough, rocking the others from their trance at the auctioneer's continued words. Joe and his men turned surprised eyes on Daryl. Most of the rest just ignored him, not familiar with Joe's rules. 

"I respect your tastes, Daryl," Joe smiled. Then, condescending, "but this here's an auction. What you got to pay for something as pricey as that piece of ass is no doubt gonna be? Bet they don't take half eaten rabbits and squirrels." The others chuckled at him. "Face it, son, she's probably out your league." 

To this day, Daryl can't remember how he didn't kill Joe right then and there. But he knew Beth was here. Couldn't be another legal, blond, blue eyed virgin in the state of Georgia. So he had to hold his shit together. 

"Don't let none'the other men get her," he grumbled, "We can pool our shit. Rather than getting three or four used up skanks for rent, we can buy a real tight girl to keep with us a while. Think. She'll be just ours. We don't got to worry bout no diseases and shit." Daryl was sick, saying these words, bile burned inside his chest, but the sickness and clenched teeth made his voice sound all the more convincingly deranged and believable as one of their own.

"Well..." Joe smiled to the others, "how do you like that?" The rest in the group nodded and sneered. 

"Claimed," Tony said softly. 

"That's right, claimed for all of us!" Harley hissed. 

"And, what's more, I want her for myself first," Daryl broke in, "and as to what I got to pay for it," he reached into his inner jacket pocket, where he'd managed to keep treasure hidden from them all this time. It was from that damn country club, and Beth made fun of him for grabbing it, too. He pulled out a handful of gold and silver coins, as well as the first few pearls of one strand of a necklace that had four whole strands. He slipped this back into his pocket quickly, glaring a look of death at the others who almost couldn't help themselves but reach for it. Joe let out a low whistle. 

"Don't be flashing that around," 

"I ain't flashing, jus' showing you boys we can 'ford to get that blond virgin ourselves." 

"What if they don't want that kind of shit in trade? I mean, is that crap even valuable anymore?" Billy asked a legitimate question, surprising everyone. 

"It used to be and it may be again one day," Daryl growled, "That'll be enough. Plus, whatever else you assholes can throw in that's useful nowadays to sweeten the deal." 

The plan decided, Joe clapped Daryl appreciatively on the shoulder. 

He had to fucking hold it together. He had to do it for her. Fuck. How was he going to get the rest of the women out? Thinking on his feet, he suddenly coughed: 

"Gotta take a shit. Anyone hear if they got plumbing? Or is it an outhouse?" 

Everyone shrugged, looked around. 

"I think you're a grown man and can figure it out yourself," Joe sneered, "everyone meet back here before the bidding starts on that virgin."

And they dispersed. Most didn't go far, just sat on a porch or by the well and drank some of the complementary booze was getting passed around by staff of the joint, clearly for the purposes of loosening their pockets. 

Daryl went inside the house, first. He had just under 2 hours to make up a bunch of distractions, free as many girls as possible and kill every lone asshole he found in this place before the auction started.

\----------------

Beth could get her arms up to her elbows out of the shed now, through the hole. But damn it, that wasn't good enough. She no longer had days, maybe not even hours. She could hear all the voices out in the main yard, though she couldn't make out what they said. She'd clearly heard the word "cherry". And she knew it meant her. 

She sighed sympathetically over at her cellmate, who had passed out, mercifully. That girl didn't deserve any of this shit, just because she was a strong woman who wanted to get laid at some point in her life before she'd been kidnapped by these assholes! Beth was aching with shame and guilt over not being raped as well. It was just because she'd been a prude with Jimmy and not had enough time to go that far with Zach. Hell, she and Zach had done practically everything else. If he'd come back from that raid alive, she would have certainly fucked him at some point. She was no different from this other girl! It wasn't fair what they did to her! It wasn't right that this girl had to lay there suffering like this, while Beth was mostly fine! It wasn't fair that Beth was here, in tact and mostly untouched except for when they'd ripped off her clothes like they were about to rape her, but stopped when they'd found her hymen. 

Tears welled and streamed down her face. No. No fucking survivor's guilt (that's what Daddy called it back when Momma and others started turning). Not now. She couldn't afford to feel survivor's guilt right now. The other girl... hell, all the other girls... needed her to be strong and use the un-violated wits she had about her to free them. She turned over and scooted around to face the hole she was making. Her hands weren't fast enough anymore, and the hole was too big for the bounds on her wrists to allow her fingers much more purchase. But her feet! 

She scooted out and back enough to dig both of her heels hard into the hole. It was working! Dirt and dust started flying as she wheeled and pivoted and kicked, scraping fresh dirt out of the hole in much bigger dents than she had before. 

Oh god. Let me help all these others. Let me get out of here and help them. I'll set a fire in the barn. I'll cut myself free. While they're running to deal with the fire, I'll open the sheds, free the girls. I'll arm myself with something. Arm the other girls too. We'll get out of here. Fuck. I know we'll get out of here. Please, please God just give me time! 

\----------------

Across the farm, in the house, Daryl was casing room to room saying the same silent prayer.


	4. Gathering the Troops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe's got it all wrong... Cats can be both indoor and outdoor. 
> 
> Kill all the vermin, then come in, eat supper and sleep soundly on the bed with the people they love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp!* Your words, kudos and bookmarks mean _so_ much to me!!!!! 
> 
> Promise this will be done by dinner time. Late night tonight at the latest. 
> 
> I feel bad for my keyboard. Beating this one out so angry-hard. Just got to get our Daryl redeemed! He ain't nobody's lackey! Dang TWD! How dare you take our hero from us and serve him up all in remission to the likes of Joe?! 
> 
> ~Sintina
> 
> Warning: more visible effects of rape, avoid if its a trigger, as well as some ultra-violence.

Daryl had the downstairs pretty well covered, no men left alive inside. He’d stabbed one in the back of the skull in the bathroom; left him in the shower stall, curtains drawn. Then, found one in a bedroom and kicked him in the nuts, while stabbing him in the throat. Hid that guy in the closet. Lots of booze in the kitchen. He’d strapped on various additional weapons he found or took off his victims. Two handguns, another knife, and a shotty he slung over the opposite shoulder to his crossbow. He was just about to head to the upstairs when he heard grunts coming from a door off the kitchen. 

A laundry room, he supposed, now. Thought it was just a shallow pantry at first glance. How’d he miss that? Being too quick, less thorough, he kicked himself. The grunts were low and followed by whines of a woman. Daryl clenched his teeth, lifted a knife, and swung open the door. 

“Occupied! Dick bag!” the grizzled man muttered mid thrust, not even looking at Daryl. 

Daryl dove forward and buried the knife in the guy’s armpit, twisting, easily severing the artery as blood gushed and spewed out. Then booted him, hard, in the kidney, knocking the asshole sprawling on the ground. The tan skinned woman didn’t shriek, to her credit. She adjusted herself, pulled up her clothes and just stared at Daryl. She was mid-forties, with thick dark hair; had an air about her that reminded him of Carol. He nodded and twirled the knife round in his hand, offering the handle to her. 

She took it and fell on her rapist, stabbing and stabbing his crotch. For all Daryl’s insensitivity to violence by this point, even he had to look away as she eviscerated the guy’s junk. The sounds alone were enough to make your balls shrink up inside you. When she was satisfied with the job, she wiped the blade on some laundry and slid it under her belt. 

“Thanks, mister,” she said, smiling a wicked smile, “Name’s Tricia. Who’re you?” 

“Daryl. We don’t got much time. You wanna stay and fight or you wanna run off? ‘Sup to you. I’m bringing this shithouse down, either way. Understand if you get the hell out while getting’s good.” 

“Fuck no. I’ll stay and fight. What’chu need?” 

“You know how to make Molotov cocktails? All sorts of booze in the kitchen and you got rags and socks all over this room,” Daryl gestured around, “Lock yourself in here and make as many as you can, quick while I go through the upstairs,” Daryl thought a second, “Make some painful moan noises now and again, so’s no one disturbs you...” 

Daryl left her to it and turned up the staircase. 

The first bedroom door he opened, he came across two more women. A heavyset young woman with long red hair in a tight messy ponytail sat on the bed, cradling a smaller, obviously underage, girl, stroking her hair and whispering when Daryl stormed in. 

“Nuh’uh!” shouted the protective woman, “No sloppy seconds! Get the fuck out! You didn’t pay to be here! We done for now! Get the fuck out!” and she stood, gently laying the littler girl down. Her eyes were electric. Gorgeous pools of hazel, she had such beautiful eyes. They glared fire at Daryl now. 

“Shhh!!” Daryl raised his hands in surrender, and quietly: “I’m burning this place down. You seem the type’d wanna help,” he quickly offered her a handgun; that she grabbed and pointed right at him. It was a tense moment as he straightened and raised his hands higher. 

The girl on the bed sniffled and looked up. 

“Jolene? Is he serious?” 

“Can’t tell, baby girl, can’t tell.” Jolene raised an eyebrow at him, “How’d you get here? No man gets here that the staff ain’t chosen to come,” Jolene cocked the gun. 

“I look bout as rough as the group I was with, but I ain’t like them, swear. There’s a girl o’mine here, a girl I lost. Gotta rescue her and the rest of y’all too. Take you to a place called Terminus, ‘spose to be safe.” He shook his hair out of his eyes as he spoke, let her see right into him and his sincerity. 

She lowered the weapon. “Terminus is where we was heading, on the tracks, when they nabbed us.” 

The younger girl rose up, dangled her feet off the bed, looking from Jolene to Daryl. He realized she could be the 15 year old the auctioneer was bragging about earlier. 

“My sister left us a note, carved in a tree,” the girl said, “we got split up after some walkers… and… and she carved us a note ‘bout a place called Terminus… go to the tracks. And we did…” she sniffled and buried her head in her hands. 

Jolene placed a hand on the girl’s head and looked stern anger at Daryl. “We gonna burn this place down it’s gotta be soon.” 

“Right. Gonna case the barn and the perimeter, kill the lone guards on each fence. You know if there’s other people upstairs right now?” 

“They usually stop all the buying and renting a few hours before an auction, so the men can wander the property, get drunk and fondle themselves looking at the merchandise. Gives the buyers plenty of time to figure out how much of their shit they’re willing to part with and gets’em all riled up with anticipation,” she sighed, looking well older than her years, “So. No. There’s no one else up here. Some shithead paid to be with us a few hours back, before they closed up shop for the auction.”

Daryl nodded and told Jolene about a rack of keys hanging by the front door. The assholes running this place were so damn cocky, they didn’t even keep their keys on their persons. His muscles grizzled down his neck and back. “Take all the keys. I’ll cover you to the garage, get in there and try all the vehicles, pick one to take us to Terminus.” 

“I can rig the rest to be a distraction,” Jolene offered, “Mine’s a family of mechanics.” 

“Good enough for me,” Daryl walked ahead of them, crossbow drawn and pointed at the front door as they headed down the stairs. “A lady, Tricia, laundry room, rigging some distractions of her own,” he gestured in that direction. 

“There’s a door to the back through the laundry room,” the young girl offered. Daryl led them there. Tricia’d made a dozen Molotovs, at least. 

“Damn, girl,” Daryl smiled. 

“Where you headed? Can I come?” Tricia asked; smiling as the other girls eyed her handiwork on the dead man shoved in the corner.

“We’re getting a vehicle,” Jolene said. 

“Stay here,” Daryl ordered, “Don’t need too big a group moving around at once. Stay locked in here and start throwing those cocktails all over the place when the time comes.” 

“What time?” Tricia asked.

“You’ll know,” Daryl gave a wicked grin, “We’re gonna blow this auction a new one. Shit’ll get so crazy, we’ll have a good chance of getting all the girls out and getting ya’ll sum revenge too.” 

“Good.” Jolene kicked the decimated crotch of the corpse in the corner. “I want to make my mark on some’o’them like Tricia’s done here.”


	5. Chains Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth won't be anyone's little bitch. 
> 
> "I close my eyes and fly out of my mind  
> Into the Fire  
> Oh, light the sky and hold on tight  
> The world is burning down  
> She's out there on her own, and she's all right."  
> \- Shawn Colvin  
> "Sunny Came Home"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this; two, tops. 
> 
> We'll get some real resolution. Real recovery. 
> 
> Thank you all again for your love and words of appreciation. You keep me doing this! 
> 
> That and the rage at TWD ep 4.15 "Us". ~Sintina

Beth could just about get both of her feet out of the hole. So, if she shimmed just right, she’d be able to scooch out of the shed on her belly, soon. It wasn’t quite big enough to get her head through, yet, though. She sighed heavily, becoming exhausted, but all the more determined. 

Beth’s cellmate stood next to her suddenly. 

“Let me finish that up,” she said gruffly, “My legs are free. And I got shoes on. Those fuckers fucking left me free enough to get the fuck out of here!!” With a vigor Beth sorely admired, the girl kicked, scraped and stamped at the hole; pulling dip divots of dirt and rock out. She kicked some of the debris forward, through the hole and outside the shed in her anger. Then thought better of it. She began pulling at the debris with the front of one foot, into the shed with them. The other foot dug deeper with each kick. She twisted her shoe-front down further like a wedge each time. 

Beth turned around and moved her hands into the hole. She fisted and tossed clumps and piles of dirt the other girl’s shoed foot couldn’t maneuver well. 

“There. Try your scrawny ass through there, now,” the girl ordered. Beth suddenly realized the other girl was wider and fuller in her hips, shoulders and bust. There was no way they had time to make the hole big enough for both of them. “Get! I’ll stay in here and whimper and cry, so they don’t think the shed’s empty or suspect nothing! Go!” 

Beth tried the hole face first, but that was too hard. She turned and darted her bound feet easily outside, shimming her butt, then her hands, behind her back, outside. Her skin pressed hard against the 2x4. She barely fit. She used her elbows behind her back to push the rest of her torso through. She got splinters all along her ribs and lower breasts, through the tattered shirt. Then got stuck at her upper breasts and shoulders, below her chin. She wriggled and almost panicked, digging her heels into the ground outside trying to pull herself out with her legs. 

Her cellmate sat down behind her. Rested one foot on each of Beth’s shoulders and heaved her forward with a heavy, hard kick of both feet, shoving her roughly from the shed. Beth's nose hooked on the wood on her way out, bloodying it, almost breaking it, tearing one of her nostrils wide open. Shit, if only she'd turned her head.

Once outside, Beth stood quickly, shooting bursts of air out her nose, to clear it of blood. The barn was close, to her left. She looked around. Fuck. She’d have to hop or waddle all the way there… or crawl. She lowered herself again, down the wall of the shed, listening for men, for anyone close by. There was another shed to her left, between hers and the barn. She raised up on her knees, used the balls of her knees like feet and “walked” on them, shuffling them tightly back and forth, one in front of the other. Rapidly, she made it to the back of that next-door shed. She planted herself on its back wall, panting. Her knees were bleeding and raw. If she did that again, she'd pop a knee cap and be useless. Damn! She'd only gone a few feet! And she left a trail of blood stained grass and dirt, too! She cursed herself and ignored the pain. But she couldn’t make it all the way to the barn like that. She raised up on her feet again. Hopping would have to do it. Damn it. 

There was a large tree a few feet in front of her. The further back she got from the main yard, the better. Best to get behind the barn, and get in that way. She hopped, knees blazing at each impact, until she was firmly behind the large tree, her back up against it. She clung into the deep ridges of the bark with her fingers. Felt the living thing almost insist she escape. Beth always believed in spirits, especially in nature. Maybe all her urgency made her more attuned to it now. She slowed her breathing down. Had to be ready for the final dash to the barn. Beth ran a couple fingers up the valleys in the bark, looking up at the peacefully swaying leaves. Sunlight illuminated down through the green like stained glass above her. It was almost religious, not being in the dark anymore. 'You don't want to be witness to all this, do you, tree?' She thought to it. And said a silent prayer, feeling like the tree itself was answering, filling her with energy and safety for her final dash. Got to go. Got to do it now.

She hopped, then waddled her feet like a duck, keeping her knees locked, then hopped again, making ground quicker than she expected. Please keep me safe, please don't let them see, please, please... with each inch closer. And there she was, behind the barn. As far from the main yard and all the men as she could be. The rickety old rail fence, on this side of the property, was right in front of her. She stared beyond it, into dense shrubbery. For a few fleeting seconds, she wanted nothing more than to crawl under the lowest beam and just be hidden in the bushes, away from all of this. She'd cut herself loose. Be free to run and run and run. But she couldn't. A tear or two slid onto her lips and she licked them off. She couldn't run. Couldn't leave the others. 

She heard something to her right. Looked. An armed man! Facing away from her! Pacing...a guard! Without thinking, she dove forward, under the fence beam, into the bushes, like she'd just imagined. She sat perfectly still. Closed her eyes. Stopped breathing. 

He's walking in the other direction, Beth! She scolded herself. He'll turn around soon, though, and you'll miss your chance to get in the barn! Sitting here scared in these damn bushes! She craned her neck. He had about 25 yards. Then he'd be turning to pace back this way. She shied through the brush until she was facing the back door of the barn, just across the fence from it. Now or never. If it's locked, she's dead. She dove between the fence's top and bottom poles. On her belly only a second, she flopped up onto her knees, then feet. She braced a shoulder against the barn door, hoping it'd swing softly inward. It didn't. Sliding doors, duh. No time, no time! Still bracing herself, she tried swiveling her feet between the doors' opening, to slide it apart just a bit. Success! She slid one foot between the two doors, then wedged the rest of her body between them and fell into the barn in a heap of winded, painful victory. 

\-------

Daryl spied the last of his prey. The final guard was coming up around the end of the barn, coming towards the back corner of the property. Daryl was running through the brush, on the other side of the fence, toward him. If the guard made the turn and saw his comrade wasn't walking along the top side of the property, as he was supposed to be, this man might sound some sort of alarm. They'd all had whistles around their necks. Daryl needed to grab this guy and get him in the bushes. Fast. Daryl smiled at the memory of the other two guards. He'd walked right up to each of them, an unlit cigarette dangling on his lips: 

"Hey, man, bum a light?" As each of the other two worthless guards reached into their pockets for a lighter, he stabbed them in the throats and pushed them over the fence into the bushes. The second one, he kicked further into the brush and jumped in behind him. He was a bit more exposed at the top of the property than over behind the house, where he'd killed the first guard with the girls in tow behind him.

Jolene and the young one, Amy, were in the garage, now. Jolene herself had beaten the two men in there to death. Daryl shot one of them dead center of his chest with a bolt and before the other could move, Jolene clocked him with a wrench. She kept right on beating the both of them, hard, into near putty. Daryl knew she and Amy were taken care of in there. He smiled. This was all sickeningly satisfying.

He came up to the final guard, now. The guy was oblivious, chewing on dip, licking his gums. Almost up to the corner. Daryl didn't move, didn't breathe, just watched the guy walk closer and closer. He came up to the corner and turned. Before recognition of his lost comrade on the north fence dawned, Daryl kicked a leg out from the brush, under the bottom fence pole. The guard crashed backwards, wind knocked out of him; his legs shot from under him, almost kicked Daryl in the face. Daryl pounced on him, quiet, deadly, slashing his throat. He rolled the body into the bushes as well. And rose alert, like a cat, prowling along the fence for cover behind the barn. The sheds that held the girls, just over the other side of this barn. He'd get some wire cutters or something out the barn, sneak up to the sheds, find Beth and cut the lock on hers. Damn. He realized there'd be a lot of oafs out around those sheds, soon; gathering girls for the auction block. Maybe it was time to set the barn on fire? That'd signal Tricia, Jolene and Amy to cause all kinds of hell on their side of the main yard, while the barn burned on this side. That was it. Perfect. 

He leaned against the back of the barn, breathing hard. Getting his body ready for the final big run. Hoped those vehicles in the garage were worth a damn. 

\------

Beth cut her hands free on the first hanging yard tool she found, quick and clean. Then grabbed it off the wall, a curved circular hand scythe, nice. She sliced the bounds on her ankles. Free at last! Fucking hell! Free!! She did a quick fist-pumping dance at the brilliance of the moment. Then regained herself. Looking around, there had to be gasoline in here somewhere. Set the whole place to blazing.

How would she get the girls outta the sheds, though? She wondered. What if the fire spread to the sheds and they were burned alive in there? Shit. She started to hyperventilate a little. Gasping for air. This was all too much for her exhausted, dehydrated, barely-fed frame. She steadied herself against a beam. Fuck it. She'd burn the place anyway and figure the rest out on the fly. There was plenty of hay around the barn. Just needed anything to light it on fire. Someone's glasses were sitting on a work bench. Lots of sun from a hay loft overhead. Easy. 

Then she heard the barn doors open wide behind her. Her heart exploded in panic as she dove into an animal stall. She squatted down, ready to spring, scythe point sharp and singing for blood. 

Daryl closed the doors hard behind him. Not so worried who might hear him now. Hay everywhere! Good. He whipped out his lighter and marched towards the hay. Just in case, he fumbled in his pockets for a few matches, too. Smiling like a demon, almost laughing at himself, he flipped the lighter.

Beth saw Daryl storm passed, a look of sheer, hateful joy on his features. She fell backward, off her haunches and onto her butt, pulling her knees into her chest. He was here! He'd see her like this! The myriad emotions were too much. The last willfulness and power roiling under her skin extinguished. She couldn't cry. There was nothing left in her to cry. She just sighed a huge mournful sigh into her forearms, hugging herself tighter.

Daryl tossed the first flaming straws onto the heap he'd pulled them from. Soft white smoke swirled up from the bail around the little flames. He was almost hysterical in his thrill of destruction as he lit another handful. Then he heard the sigh. He wasn't alone. He dropped the second smoking embers on to another bail and stalked toward the sound.

There she was. Clutching a hand scythe, hugging herself and rocking back and forth, totally silently. Not even crying. 

There was Beth. At last. He let out a gasp of joy. 

"Beth?"

Blankly, no emotion, not looking up: "Daryl." 

The smoke was starting to swirl towards them. 

"I'm sorry," he began and coughed. She looked up, smelling the smoke. He saw how beat up and bloody she was. Her nose was torn to shit. As she stood, he saw the state of her knees. His mind immediately went to her being raped from behind... No! That couldn't be true... unless she wasn't the 'cherry' at all... oh god... Beth. He choked. His face scrunched up with emotion and he turned his head, hiding his eyes behind that shaggy hair. Daryl had completely failed her. 

"I'm so glad you're here," she said, finally. She reached up and turned his face to her, repeating, "Daryl. I'm **so** glad you're here," and she whimpered, suddenly, "I'm sorry I was stupid enough to get kidnapped..."

"NO!" he hollered, grabbing hold of her and pulling her to him, "No, Beth! Don't! None this shit's your fault! Don't you _ever_ say that again, y'hear?!" and his voice broke, clutching her, "Did they...?" he was finally brave enough to ask. Beth snorted: 

"Course not," she shivered at renewed survivor's guilt, "I'm too fucking valuable ~in tact~." He could feel the shame rolling over her. Daryl held her tighter and stopped himself from breathing a sigh of relief, knowing it would offend her now. He felt her clench and heave her breaths against him.

The smoke was becoming thick. Could hear the fire crackling now. Daryl broke away and handed Beth the shotgun. 

"What say you shoot the first shit-heel you see out there?" 

Beth beamed a sadistic smile that looked all wrong on her. Daryl met it right back, though. 

Beth laughed a little: "If we're lucky, walkers will come tear this hell hole to the damn ground and eat everyone that doesn't burn to death," 

"Or get killed by the women," Daryl added, grabbing a pair of wire cutters off the work bench, "There's a few o'em free and ready to fight. With this, we'll get the rest 'o'em out." He slid the back doors wide. 

Daryl and Beth strode tall from the barn together, toward the sheds. Beth nodded at her tree as she passed it. 

The tree swayed approval over the triumphant pair of hellhounds set loose on the vile scum of the Earth.

You could almost hear it laughing.


	6. Burning Ring of Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hits the fan.  
> All of it.  
> At once.

"FIRE!!!" the auctioneer bellowed into the megaphone. 

"FUCK ALL! The house is on fire!" The drunk layabouts, staffers and buyers all rounded the courtyard on the house. A few opportunists and survivalists (or both) saw the writing on the wall and ran for the entrance of the compound, heading the hell out of dodge. They were met by the tank who'd invited Joe's men here. Each promptly punched to the ground. 

"Ain't nobody goes nowhere till we know who did this..." he growled and spat. 

The first man on the ground drew a gun on the big bastard, immediately firing, "Fuck you! I ain't staying round shit!" and he fired again and again.

The tank took the first to the hip, a grazer that he shrugged off, advancing on the shooter. He stepped sideways at the obvious higher aim of the second shot. Took the third glancing his shoulder, before he grabbed the gun-holding wrist and crushed with a sound like dry spaghetti noodles. The shooter screamed agony. But he'd helped a few other fellow cowards make a break for it, as the big guy was occupied. 

The other guards at the main gate had run foolishly towards the house fire. No one seemed to know where the nearest water source was. Everyone shouted and threatened and drew weapons on each other. Whoever the captain of this ship might've been, once, he either wasn't around or no one knew him to be in charge. The main yard went prison-riot crazy. 

"The fucking BARN is on fire, too!" shouted the megaphone man. Now there was a run on the sheds. Get the women, get the fuck out, every man for himself. Shotgun blasts came from that direction. Most men turned tail and fled back the way they came. Fires began to pop up in the bushes behind the house, in the main yard, all over.

"MOLOTOVS, you fucking morons!!!" shouted the auctioneer at no one who listened. He threw the megaphone down. Then, marched across the yard, toward the laundry room side of the house. 

\-------------

Same time, near the sheds. Beth got her first shotgun blast and it almost knocked her down. The belly blown open of her victim, he managed to stand and reach for her anyway. Staggering forward, clutching and unclutching fists for her face, the fucker burbled nonsense over his own blood. Daryl kicked him in the gut, entrails tangling on his boot and spiraling out as the guy fell backwards to the grass.

"Nice one," Daryl cooed Beth, shaking the gore from his foot. 

"Fabulous finishing move, yourself," she giggled. 

Daryl cut lock after lock down the line of sheds. Two men jumped him at the last one and he struggled for a moment before Beth's second shot gun blast erupted the back of one of them. Wild pellets knicked Daryl in a few places, but he wasn't in the line of fire at all, Beth'd made sure of that. Plus, she was all the way back at the first shed, hardly a close range shotgun shot. But effective, none the less. The first guy grasped at his shredded back and turned on Beth, charging her. Before she could shift to handgun or knife, two of the sheds between her and this dipshit swung open. He was immediately disarmed and overwhelmed by three women, one of them Beth's own cellmate. They made quick work of beating and stabbing him to death while screaming, laughing or crying. 

The second guy, Daryl fought. He knocked the man's teeth out, but got a busted lip and swollen cheek for his trouble. He kicked the guy's shin in, so the asshole fell forward a tad. Before Daryl could land another blow, the two women from the shed they were fighting against emerged and tackled their known assailant, biting, clawing and kicking. Daryl stood aside and placed a knife in a feminine hand. The rest was viscera and vile. He smirked down at Beth as she approached. 

"Is it wrong if I like it?" she asked, somewhat genuine, through her trademark gloriously sweet smile. 

"Only if you take it up as hobby or somethin'," Daryl smiled. "In this setting? Nah. T'aint wrong," and he shoved her shoulder playfully. 

Things were working out quite nicely. The flames reached the roof of the barn. It was collapsing under the heat, embers raining down over the whole hectic scene. The house was on its way out, too. The men in the main courtyard were basically killing each other for Daryl and the ladies. At this rate, there'd be nothing left but to casually drive off the property like they owned the place. 

Just then, a minivan burst through the large garage door and into the yard; plowing over a dickhead or two before careening sideways and flipping into the burning barn. 

"That would be Jolene," Daryl gestured to Beth, "Don't know if you met her? Apparently, she's put a brick on the accelerator or somethin', huh?"

Beth nodded approval. 

Through it all, Daryl made out the face of Joe, suddenly. Joe and Tony were hopping the fence behind the house. Joe had looked back, perhaps to see any more of his men coming. Or perhaps just to spot Daryl and look him hard in the eyes? Daryl glared right into Joe's fucking worthless soul, even at this distance. Joe sneered, disgusted at the sight of Daryl and Beth, surrounded by rampaging women and clearly responsible for the carnage. Much to Daryl's rage, as he raised a hand gun, aimed and took a few meaningless steps forward, Joe ducked into the brush behind Tony and out of sight. Fuck! Daryl knew he couldn't have hit him at this range, but pulled the trigger anyway. The bullet whistled off in the right direction. Who knew what it hit?

\--------------

Tricia peered around the corner of her busily burning masterpiece of a house. Shots were being fired in every direction and people were getting gutted left and right. She was going to make a break for the garage and hop in a choice vehicle, when the auctioneer came stomping towards her, gun drawn. She shrugged and threw a lit Molotov at him. What else did she have? Wouldn't let that sack of shit get close enough for her to use the knife. Tricia watched as his body raked with flames. He fired the gun wide and wildly before dropping it as it clearly burned the shit out of his not-yet melting hands. The flames got to his hands pretty fast, though, and he descended into a screaming, burning mess of charred flesh. Smelled kind of like hamburger, she smiled. Anyway, she only had two left, now. She palmed them both and made a bee line for the garage. 

The tank grabbed her from behind by the neck and lifted her high. She kicked his chest and dropped both Molotovs on him. They weren't lit, so they really just served to make him soggy and smelling of booze. Still walking with her held high above him, he shook his damp pant legs. 

"Who did this? Who did this you bitch?!" And he threw her heavily down. "You fucking little twat!!!" he bellowed, "Tell me, whore!! Who fucking did this?!" and he raised a fist to beat her. It would have only taken one punch. She'd be dead. She knew it. 'Oh well,' Tricia's mind raced in those last moments of life. 'This shit storm was worth it.' 

Blood gushed forth from the tank's armpit. He staggered, suddenly. He tried to raise the arm again, but shots of blood violently spewed out and away from him as the pierced artery spasm'ed his precious life fluids everywhere. He growled, took a step forward, then his eyes rolled heavily in his head and he collapsed, loudly. 

Daryl's bullet hit that artery. Hero's luck. Or maybe the tree willed it to happen with magical tree powers? Either way, just like he'd thought about the tank earlier that very day... hit an artery and they fall just like the small ones. 

\------------

Beth was dismayed to see half the women had run off already. Two hopped a motorcycle and barreled down a dirt road she'd never noticed before, hidden off to the side of the main entrance. That must be where the car that'd swiped her pulled in! She only remembered stopping in the dense trees and being pulled out and dragged through the big main entrance. She'd never seen the car again. It must have stopped in the trees, not turning onto the grounds, then backed right out again, never really making direct contact with the compound. Beth watched as a long old diesel fueled land-boat of a car, carrying three other women, pealed away down the same dirt road. Her cellmate came up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder. 

"Fucking fantastic work," she sighed heavily with a pained smile. Beth gripped her hand. 

"You too," she said, "You too." 

"My name is Katrina. Nice to meet you...?" Katrina turned and questioned Daryl. 

"Daryl," he nodded "I think it's time we caught our ride..." 

A massive, Dodge Ram 3500 quad cab, dual rear wheels, barreling Hemi engine, 1 ton pickup truck blazed out of the garage and toward them, Jolene at the wheel. 

Just then, the familiar sound of undead rasps and growls rose above the din. Walkers were coming through the trees in every direction; from all sides of the farm. 

Every man left standing in the main yard made a break for the garage or the main entrance. Beth picked off one or two with the shotgun. Daryl capped a couple of fleeing assholes. Though, not bringing them down. He was never as good with a handgun. You only get one magic bullet like the one that took down the tank. Tricia ran up from across the way, carrying a clearly unconscious young woman. Daryl relieved her of the cargo, as Tricia was barely standing from the effort. She collapsed into Katrina's arms. 

Jolene swung the truck up to everyone. Amy wasn't alone inside. There were two other women in the back with her. 

"Get in, fast!" Jolene hollered.

Daryl jumped in the front seat, unconscious chick and all. Beth leapt in the bed of the truck, where blankets and other supplies were loaded. She wrapped herself under two of the blankets. Katrina and Tricia got in the bed with her. 

Just as the truck sped around the corner onto the dirt road, Beth spied the tree that'd probably saved her life. 

It seemed to wave goodbye. She smiled.


	7. Recovered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terminus.  
> Exhale.

“There’s the sign…” Daryl gestured with the girl in his arms. Their road was crossing a set of train tracks, just as Tricia said it would. 

Jolene pulled the truck to a stop, almost right up to it. She hopped out. 

Daryl took the opportunity to get out and put the girl in the back seat, leaning her up against another woman who put one arm around the unconscious one. 

“We’re not far!” Jolene called out “We can take a few back roads, there’s no straight shot that runs parallel to the tracks, tho,” 

“Just get us there!" Daryl barked, "Need medics now!” Harsher than he’d meant to be. He looked into the back of the truck. Beth was double wrapped in blankets and squeezed into one corner. Katrina and Tricia sat away from her and each other, with far-off stares. Everyone in the cab was the same way. After just fifteen minutes, the rush of their rampage was gone; replaced by the solemn gravity of what they'd all survived. Daryl felt the moment the laughs and cheers died away. Sighs of relief turned to sighs of... just... shock.

“Hey,” Daryl said, “one of you want to hop up in the front seat where I was? It’s warmer.” Katrina ignored him, but Tricia took the offer. He jumped into the bed of the truck and saddled over to Beth, raising the blankets to get under with her. The truck roared to a start and Jolene floored it with a jerk in the direction she was heading. 

“Don’t… Daryl…” Beth whispered as he lifted the blankets. Fresh tears glistened her eyes, but she wouldn’t look at him. He ignored her and settled under the blankets, not touching her, yet. He waited a few minutes for her to sniffle and think. Then he tentatively reached an arm for her shoulders. She shied away for only a second, then collapsed into his embrace and buried her face in his chest. 

Here she was. Beth. Only... not.

“I’m sorry,” Daryl rasped in her hair. She snuffled in response, shaking her head 'no' against his leather vest. Clearly, she thought he had nothing to apologize for. But he did. By God, he'd never had so much to apologize for his entire effing life! He continued: “I should’a known the graveyard house was a trap. Too clean. Too much food. I failed keepin’ you safe,” he cleared his throat, squeezing her once, as he prepared his thoughts for his next confession. 

“Worst is I lost myself when I lost you.” 

She rose up, at that.

“I stopped lookin’ for you, Beth,” voice so low and sorrowful she could barely hear, over the wind and the roar of the diesel, as the truck sped along, “I… I’m a no good piece o’shit for it,” a high pitch as his voice broke, but he went on, angrier: “I give up too easy. Stopped lookin’ for you when I lost track o’ the car and these fucking shit bags found me,” he inhaled, long and deep, “Beth, I didn’t do what you said… Didn’t put the past down when we burnt out that shack. Fell right back in old ways…” Losing it, he clenched her shoulder so hard in one hand. A tear or two finally fell behind tightly fisted eyelids. 

Silence beat a bit too long between them. 

Vulnerable, the vast terribleness they'd seen and done today hit Daryl in the back like a brick his father once threw at him. What Beth'd been through... Beth! Who so stalwartly believed in **good** people surviving the fucking apocalypse! 

Beth, who'd almost made Daryl Dixon, of all people, believe in humanity's general goodness. For Beth to be taken by _SUCH_ bad people... and on _his_ watch! The very _idea_ of Beth gone from this world due to Daryl's carelessness! Her body may not have been raped, but her mind, her spirit... 

He saw her twisted hateful smile in the barn and her mirth at the killing mayhem. He couldn't help smirking at the memory; she was such a little badass. But he immediately felt ashamed for encouraging the enormous change in her. The stabbing pain of it, like that old brick, made his shoulders quake and cradle forward around her. 

Subconsciously, Daryl repositioned Beth's body, before his mind could overthink it and stop him. He was fully behind her. Instinctively, he wrapped both his legs and arms around her, protecting her from the entire world. The best he could, anyway, now she was damaged goods... like him. "I'm so _fucking_ sorry, Beth!" he moaned in a pained exhale. 

She'd been shivering softly into him. Not cold at all, rather suffering something like shock as she felt his torment roll over her. At his last exclamation, she could take no more of it:

“Shhhh, shhhhh… Daryl… You saved me! Saved all of us! How can you hate yourself now? You're a super hero, a rock star, a savior! Don’t do this...to yourself... please…” and she began to weep little sobs, seeing his few tears.

He gave her nothing in response. Just those shameful tears he hated allowing to fall. She reached her arms around him. He was so tight. Intensity binding every pore. The heaviness of him threatened to throttle her loving touch simply by being.

At last, he softened only slightly around her, lowering his head to hers. He allowed the moisture of his face to dry in her thick hair. That was enough for her. She leaned into the small space created by that softness in him. They quietly held each other and mourned until the truck reached Terminus and crunched the gravel in a sudden stop. 

\---------

Maggie was outside in the yard hanging laundry when she heard the loud diesel engine. Her defenses raised, she reached for a gun she’d laid down near the hamper. Most of the group here in Terminus didn’t carry weapons wherever they went anymore. But she, Glenn and theirs, couldn’t help it. They didn’t feel safe. Not yet. She raised her semi-auto carefully. Slowly, she walked towards the gates. 

This wasn’t the kind of welcome she received when she arrived at Terminus the other day, but that didn’t matter. This place was too perfect to be put upon by dangerous strangers. She’d be the first line of defense if she had to. As she snuck closer to the gate, she dropped her weapon to the ground. Out of the back of a pickup truck swung none other than Daryl. Daryl fucking Dixon! She laughed aloud. Turned towards the main yard, ran a little ways and called for Glenn, Rick and Michonne to come running! They’d been around the kitchen area together, talking. 

Rick, Michonne and Carl arrived the day after Glenn, Maggie, Bob and Sasha. The reunion was out of this world. And now they had Daryl back! Just like that! 

\-------

“This place looks fucking creepy,” Jolene said, slamming the truck door. 

“Hear it’s an old hippie commune,” Daryl smiled, reaching up to lift Beth down with him. The other women shambled out, one by one. Jolene lifted the unconscious girl from the back seat and hoisted her up to her chest. “She’s still breathing normal,” she announced. 

Just then a chain link fence clattered open. 

“Beth?!” Maggie’s exuberant, shocked voice rang out towards them. “BETH!!!” and she was running. 

Beth just broke down. She lost it. Sobbing and crying, she couldn’t run for her sister. Beth just stammered Maggie’s name as she fell to her knees in the gravel, her arms stretched wide like a baby wanting to be picked up. Maggie slid into her, cradled her, crying and laughing at once.

“God! Jesus! Beth!” Maggie yelled, hugging and hugging. She pulled her face away at last and taking quick note of the blood and the state of Beth, “What happened?! Daryl!” looking up at him, “What happened to you guys?!” 

Glenn, Michonne and Rick surrounded Daryl already, clapping him on the back and asking him about the other women. Carl hugged Daryl round the waist and wouldn’t let go. Michonne just kept punching his arm. Alright, she may have pinched him once to see if he was real. 

Folks from the main group at Terminus were outside the gates now. They quickly took the unconscious girl and ushered the others to get inside and get taken care of. 

Their nurturing faces and hands, their general reassuring demeanor- it was too much- for some of these women. The flood gates opened and, those that could, broke down in relief at finally, maybe, being somewhere safe. 

Katrina hugged Tricia. Amy and Jolene inquired about Amy's sister... and found she was here! Inside! The squeals of delight from Amy were solid gold. 

Daryl looked on and sighed. Relieved himself, at last. 

\---------------

Beth was inside with Maggie. Daryl longed to just hold her some more. He feared if she was out of sight enough, she might disappear again! But he knew she needed this space, this chance to recount her horrors to her sister and be comforted. A way he knew he'd never console her. He was many things, Daryl Dixon, but he wasn’t a big sister. 

He smoked, sitting at one of the main tables and discussing the bunny farm and Joe’s group with Rick, Glenn and Michonne.

Michonne was livid. Her fists clenched and her shoulders drawn and taut. “Saw the smoke cloud,” she spat, “Wish to God I’d gone and investigated. Love to've seen their faces as I ripped their balls off!” 

“Plenty of ball rippin' went down,” Daryl snorted, “Them girls got more vengeance than even you mighta got for’em, Killer.” Michonne did smile at the thought and nodded approval at Daryl.

“Well, we need to worry about the survivors from Joe’s group, don’t we?” Rick said, “Need to build up defenses here. I ran into this Joe and his men when it was just me, Michonne and Carl.” 

“It was you killed Lou and let him turn on them?” Daryl asked, impressed.

“I had to get out of there… this bastard Len…”

“Len’s dead. Joe killed him over lying ‘bout me stealing from ‘im,” Daryl said matter of factly. His tone took the others aback. 

“Real nice bunch you ran with, there,” Glenn grumbled. He was still shocked by Beth's suffering. 

“Yeah. Lost my head after I lost her,” Daryl looked down and away. Unable to face what he’d let himself become for even a short time. He blew a hard, hot puff of smoke.

“So,” Rick continued, “let’s worry about this Joe. Since he n' his know where to find us.” 

“Joe ain’t getting Terminus," Daryl said with finality, "he ain’t hurting none of ours."

“How can you say that?” Michonne asked. 

“Cuz Joe's got rules. You all, this place- everything here- is…” and he smiled at himself, in a low growl, " _claimed_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the intended end of the story! Thank you all for taking this ride with me!
> 
> However... I realized this morning I couldn't leave Daryl and Beth on that sorrowful note. 
> 
> So, I'm writing a bonus slightly fluffy, more victorious, chapter just for them. 
> 
> Check back in a day or so, if that's what you're into. Otherwise, THANK YOU!!! ~Sintina


	8. Epilogue: Bonus!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solemnity be damned, the day is saved!  
> Break out the music!  
> 99 ~~Fluff~~ Balloons Go By!
> 
> For **scifigirl22** and any others who wanted this!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Implied drug use. Drugs are bad, mmm'kay? 
> 
> Also, all songs herein are copyright their creators, producers, etc.

Daryl stood on first watch. Chain smoking, though he knew Beth hated it. His stomach roiled with desire to see her. He sought more comfort for himself, sure. But he also just wanted to see where she was at, right now, emotionally. Maybe their mourning in the truck and her telling everything to Maggie... maybe, now, she was better. Maybe she was more like herself again. Regardless, Daryl wanted to be alone with her. So, taking first watch, he might be able to find her asleep or nearly asleep when he went back in. 

Rick came up to relieve him, earlier than expected. 

"You better get in there, Daryl," he said, with a wide grin. 

"What?! What's happened?" Daryl's guard instantly up.

"Nothing bad. You'll see. They're really gettin' wound up now," Rick chuckled that hoarse, pained sounding, laugh of his.

Daryl didn't argue. And as he approached the main building, he began to hear what Rick was referring to on the air. His cheeks prickled with the energy circling the courtyard. But the sounds were coming from inside. It was music. Very loud music. What the hell? What time was it? Light from inside flickered and bobbed in the open yard. Daryl took the first door he could find. 

Opening it, he was blasted by loud, thumping music like in a club... and a chorus of women's voices rising and falling entirely off key. Many of them were just screaming along to the music. It sounded like... Fuck, it couldn't be... Karaoke? 

The main warehouse floor, away from the halls and rooms where people were sleeping, if they could sleep, was full of laughter and light. Multi-colored florescent bulbs shone brightly off the ceiling and walls. Incense was burning. And there was definitely a pot smoke smell in the air. Seriously? Was Daryl dreaming this shit? 

He caught sight of Beth. She was up front, of course, leading the crowd. Always the light of any room, Beth Greene was contagious. She was... herself. His whole body soothed and relaxed at the sight of her smiling, singing and laughing. Not damaged goods at all! 

'Parently, I gotta start gettin' used'ta bein' wrong 'bout stuff, he grinned at himself. 

One of the elder Terminus leaders came over and put an uninvited arm over Daryl's shoulders, leaning in. The old guy smelled heavily of weed and beer. 

"We found that karaoke machine and the speakers n'such in a bowling alley down south a ways from here. Couldn't resist. Never used it. Waste of generator power, you know?" 

Daryl nodded and shook the unwelcome arm off. 

"Wellll...." the man continued, a little slurred and slowly, "found another big'ol propane generator t'other day. And a big'ol' propane tank, too. Our 'lectrician is wiring all that jazz up to the buildings this week, so we thought... why not? Never gonna be a better day'ta celebrate than a day like all these women finding safety and s'curity up in our walls... Hey... ain't you the one that was out 'dere wit'em? Ain't you like the **liberator** or somethin'?" 

Daryl grunted and shrugged away. The old guy ignored his disinterest. 

"Beers' in the coolers, son!" he called after Daryl, before slumping down into a chair by the door. 

Daryl did get a beer. And pulled a chair around backwards, straddling it and watching the dancing, mostly drunk women. It was great to see them all in such a different light; these women who half a day ago were to be sold at auction. They were just celebrating being alive and free. No harm in that. But Karaoke? Damn.

Still, the joyful anthems Beth led, most of the women from the farm participating, was about the most beautiful thing Daryl’d ever witnessed. They'd been singing "I'm a Bitch, I'm a Lover, I'm a Child, I'm a Mother..." when he walked in. 

Now they'd shifted to "Redneck Woman" in all it's glory. Maggie shook her hips, along with Beth, exaggeratedly bumping into each other and laughing. Together, with Jolene, they were basically screaming:

"I ain't no high class broad!!  
Just a product of my raisin',  
I say 'hey y'all' and 'yee-haw!''  


Tricia plopped down next to Daryl. Her tawny skin was sweaty and her eyes a blissful blur. “Girrrrrl-Power Ballads!! Whoo-hoo!" she screamed up to the group singing in the front. Then she looked at Daryl like she just realized he was there. "What's wrong grumpy face?" she chided, "Gretchen Wilson not your jam?!" and she laughed, hard, at her own joke.

Daryl chuckled a little bit. His mind'd been focused on alone-time with Beth. Seeing her like this, so happy, so like herself again, just reinforced that deep desire. But he found himself bobbing his head and tapping his feet. And beer! He hadn't had an actual, cold, beer in who knows when? Moonshine and all that shit was nothing to the fizz and weight in your stomach of a simple, ordinary beer. He didn't want to get lit, though. So, he nursed the second one. He also carefully watched Beth to see if she was drinking or smoking. That would be new, in front of Maggie and everything. Maggie was clearly a bit tipsy. He saw Beth clutch a single beer by the neck for more than a half hour. She stole many long glances at Daryl. But for whatever reason, didn't leave the girls to join him.

Daryl was fine just watching. Didn't want to be up in a cluster of drunk chicks, no way. 

Next up was “I’m Every Woman,” followed not long after by “Man, I feel like a Woman,” and what was apparently the third reprisal of "R-E-S-P-E-C-T!" The first two occurring while Daryl was on watch. You could tell the party was winding down. The frenzy and funniness of it all slowing to that slurry sleepy hum that precedes everyone passing out. Beth looked more and more often, with more intent, at Daryl. He felt warmth and anticipation in those looks. She wanted to be alone with him, too! 

The excitement of unspoken knowledge, between two people, across a crowd, built up in his chest. His whole body was smiling, if his face generally wasn't.

Amy stood and walked to the front. The youngest girl, by far, she hadn't been drinking or smoking or carrying on. But she'd been laughing, watching and sitting with her sister and Jolene. Now she took the microphone. 

"Ahem." she started, sweetly, "There's a song my sis and momma and I used to sing. It's from a cartoon movie Momma loved. We watched it all the time," a quick sob from Amy's sister filled the quiet room, "You can sing with me, too, Ju-Ju!" Amy called over to her. "I think many of you may know some of the words. It played on the radio a lot, the Mariah Carrey and Whitney Houston version, anyway." The room went silent as purely spiritual music started over the speakers. Amy's voice became almost a whisper as she said: "I'd like to dedicate this song to our heroes today... Beth Greene and Daryl Dixon!! Thank you so so much!!" Daryl and Beth were dumbfounded; looking at one another across the room. 

Amy's voice was rapturous as she began: 

"Many nights... we prayed, with no proof anyone could hear,  
In our hearts a hopeful song, we barely understood,  
Now we are not afraid,  
Although we know there's much to fear,  
We were moving mountains long,  
Before we knew we could....  
.......  
There can be miracles....  
When you believe...  
Though hope is frail,  
It's hard to kill." 

She sung on and on, more and more confident. Julie, her sister, joined her. Beth and Maggie knew all the words and their voices chorused beautifully. Many people started sniffling softly, giant smiles on their faces through their tears. 

Daryl sat stunned. That this was dedicated to him made him very uncomfortable. But even he couldn't deny the power of the song; nor the feeling that permeated the room through everyone's deep spiritual connection on this crazy, crazy day they'd shared.

\-----------

Finally, dispersal of the group began. People hazily parted ways and headed to their own corners, rooms and corridors. Daryl locked on Beth and lumbered up to her, after she said her goodnights to Maggie. He didn't know how to say what he wanted to say. So, as soon as he reached her, he clumsily muttered:

"Hey. Where you sleepin' t'night?"

Beth just stared at him. Coy shock, then recognition, spreading a big, bright smile on her face. 

"Well, I was gonna bunk with Maggie, but apparently she and Glenn just found each other like... the day before yesterday... so, they're not quite done celebrating that and all..." she blushed a little, trailing off. 

"Let's find somewhere, t'gether," and Daryl unceremoniously took her hand, heading out the main hall in the opposite direction he'd seen most of the others go. 

Beth was all butterflies. What was he doing? What did he want to do? She shivered; her hand clutching his tighter. There was a room, looked like an old office. Had a desk against one wall, but most of the floor was open. Daryl let go of her hand, went to the far corner and just plopped down in it, his back leaning heavily against the walls. Beth huffed. 

"Daryl! There's cots and mattresses and everything out on the other side of the building! Silly! Where's your pack with your sleep stuff, anyway? Least get that. Geez." 

Daryl blinked at her like he was waking up. He hadn't been thinking about sleeping, and he said so: 

"Sorry. Wasn't thinkin' o' sleepin'," and he looked away from her. Her whole body was one giant blush. Then he suddenly stammered, "No! Not like that, shit..." and he balled a fist, grinding his teeth, "Just... just wanted to be alone wit you..." and he stammered, fumbling. Beth loved seeing him like this. She smiled, hands on her hips. 

"Well, ~I~ need some sleep. And even if we're not sleeping, I need something soft to sit on." Daryl rose and followed her to where the various spare bedding options were piled up in a storage room. Terminus really had quite a collection, apparently always ready to receive new people. They carried a beat-up, saggy full sized mattress into their little office and wedged it into the floor space it didn't quite fit. "Much better," Beth smiled and flopped down on her belly. Daryl returned to his corner, leaning against it, one knee up, an elbow on that knee, the other leg bent around the ankle of the first. He angled his body perfectly into a corner, Beth smiled. He always adapted to his surroundings, seemingly subconsciously. She loved it.

Silence beat for a bit. Beth yawned. She'd been wanting to talk to him all night. So, now was the time. She sat up, legs crossed, shoulders leaning towards him.

“Daryl… ‘bout what you said before, bout you giving up on me and yourself, falling in with Joe’s crew and being who you were before?” Beth tried to crane around so she could see his stubbornly hidden face. 

“Wot’a’bout it?” he scoffed, eyes pinched, like she’d ripped open a scab. 

"You were wrong 'bout all that," she smiled.

Anger flashed in his veiled eyes. 

“Shut up!” but softening just as quickly: “Please. Beth. You don’t know… a’ight?”

“No! I _DO_ know. And you’re going to listen to me, Daryl fucking Dixon!” He shot his face around at her, near rage that she’d challenge him, and worse, try to boss him around.

His stern eyes met hers- sterner still- and he ceded defeat. Beth continued:

“You’re wrong. I thought you were wrong when you said it, but I talked to Maggie and she thinks you’re wrong too.” 

Daryl’s eyes widened. He looked away with an upturned lip like a cranky dog. But he regained himself, not wanting to bark at Beth again. More calmly than he thought he could manage: 

“What’d’ya go tellin’ her _my_ business for, huh?”

“Well, that particular bit was more _our_ business and I needed to run it by someone other than my own messed-up self,” 

“Uh-huh,” unconvinced, arms crossed. 

“You were where you needed to be, Daryl,” Beth smiled, looking down, shy about saying such things so resolutely to him. He rolled his eyes, like she expected. She straightened her shoulders and repeated: 

“You were where you needed to be… where… Daddy would say God put you… to find me, if you could think on it that way,” she trailed off. Faith and stuff was never a topic Daryl responded to. 

“Hmph,” Daryl stood and paced away a little. Far as he could in the office, behind the desk, into the other corner, his back towards her. “That’s funny,” he finally said. 

“Why?” 

He came back over. Sat down on the mattress across from her, closer. His own legs crossed, leaning in, like her. 

He looked up with that Daryl Dixon intensity she loathed and longed for. 

“Cuz... back there, all angrier than shit, mixed up, missing you…” he swallowed, embarrassed at his own admission, “I got spiteful, I guess.” 

He chewed on his thumb, considering, then in that low grumble “I got to thinkin’ your Daddy’s God put Joe there to keep me down, keep me in my place,” he exhaled low, almost a whistle as his thoughts took shape on his face, “Felt so familiar with Joe. Way I was hurtin’ n’ hateful. Like my mean ass younger self,” 

He looked at her one serious long stare, “Beth, them being right there, right then, when I was so low… I swore your God just had those fucking assholes show up and keep me under their thumb where I belonged…” his turn to trail off. 

“Daryl,” Beth began. 

He interrupted her, earnestly: “You really think I was s’pose’ta be hooked up with them filth… to find you?” Beth's eyes were love and sympathy. She took his hands in hers. 

“Yes, Daryl. Yes, I really do.” 

After a few beats, his eyes squinting at her and that gruff voice: “Well, that’s the closest thing to religion I guess I ever got.”

Beth smiled broadly, then. They were so physically close to each other and they'd just agreed on something... something spiritual!! He clutched her hands tighter. He was leaning in further. Their knees, all Indian style, came to touch, just slightly. Beth licked her lips, absentmindedly, nervously. 

Daryl's eyes watched her mouth, then darted down her body and back up to her eyes. His chin leaned forward, the final bit of distance. 

Their lips met for the first time ever. 

Their mouths opened and drank in one another's love. 

At last. 

Free at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you guys!! Thanks for having fun with me on this one!! 
> 
> Looking very forward to Daryl's redemption tonight on the season finale (I hope!) 
> 
> Check out my other story, No Car For Beth, if you haven't yet. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Hugs! ~Sintina


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